Susan of Narnia
by Crimson White
Summary: ...And beneath her gentle exterior lies a demon with red eyes and clawed hands. With her magic the Queen of Narnia ensnares and captivates, luring good princes of pure heart. A wicked temptation given up by the demons of hell to torture men on earth


_Characters are not mine. _

So this is something completely AU, I suppose. Just another one shot to try and keep the muse alive because it seems to be disappearing a lot lately. : (

Another warning that it's completely movie verse.....

Because sometimes, what is written in the pages of history is not necessarily the truth. All writing is subjective. Don't you think?

Hope you enjoy.

Crimson

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The doctor would have been appalled. But, even though Caspian had secretly been taught about Narnia and her creatures since he was a small child, not much time had been devoted in storytelling to the four monarchs of the Golden Age. What Caspian _did _know about the strange newcomers was only what he had read in the royal library.

_...And beneath her genteel exterior lies a demon with red eyes and clawed hands. With her magic the Queen of Narnia ensnares and captivates, luring good princes of pure heart. A wicked temptation given up by the demons of hell to torture men on earth.... (extract from: A guide to early Telmarine history – Eastern Borders)_

Susan of Narnia did not look like a demon. Her eyes were not red, but the bluest blue. Her fingers were not clawed; instead the nails were chewed back and there were calluses on her fingers from drawing her bow in defence of her people.

But all of this Caspian had ascertained because he seemed to _not be able to take his eyes away_ from the tall woman. Though he had yet to introduce himself, he watched her, constantly, out of the corner of his eyes. His heart fluttered when she passed him. He already had committed her fresh scent to memory. He was captivated by her delicate movements and open smile. This had never before happened to young Caspian. There had been small attractions, yes, but never such an instantaneous need to know everything about a woman, to obsess over her every little move and word.

With such a school of thought as concocted by the Telmarine historian drilled into him from such a young age, can Caspian be blamed for assuming that the enchantress had ensnared him like she had so many other Princes and Kings in the past?

Can one blame the Prince, who was known for being headstrong and sometimes a little rash, for once realising that he was _obviously_ under an enchantment determining to find the Queen and demand that she release him of her spell?

And so, full of righteous courage and feeling rather indignant, Caspian found the Queen, stood his ground and held his head high.

"Er – Good Eve."

She turned around from where she was folding long lengths of blankets and brushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed slightly from the exertion. Caspian blinked to stop his wide eyed stare.

"I believe we have not yet been formally introduced. I am Prince Caspian, of Telmar. And I am here to demand you release me."

Susan of Narnia stared at the Prince with a thoroughly confused expression. Then with a small smile, a flutter of her eyelashes and a demure curtsey, she tried to gloss over the awkward, confused silence in the courtly way as she had been taught.

"We are pleased to meet you. I am Susan, of Narnia."

Her smile widened and Caspian was struck by the thought that no one with a smile as gentle as Susan's could possibly be a demon as such in the writings of history.

"I know," he blurted before he could stop himself, and cursing her magic, he tried to keep his voice steady. "I mean – your reputation precedes you, your majesty."

She smiled wider, her eyes alight and let slip a small giggle. "My reputation? Pray tell, good sir."

And though he tried not to, Caspian stuttered and stumbled on his words, forgetting the grand speech of freedom and false feelings of attraction in the face of her light laughter. Susan's smile fell as she watched him squirm. Her hands balled at her sides and she became rigid before him as her eyes became dark with understanding.

"I see," she said to him coolly. "I can only imagine the stories which have survived the ages. Tell me, Prince Caspian of Telmar – Do they still proclaim that I am a witch? Do the stories remain which tell of my dark magic?"

And she stared at him with such a fierce and condemning expression that Caspian felt weak at the knees.

"No! I mean, well yes," he stuttered.

"And when you looked upon my face and saw that it was beautiful you automatically assumed it was only so because I had ensnared you."

"Er – perhaps, but -"

She advanced on him, her eyes alight with passion. "Tell me, do I seem to you as cunning as the Calormenes have recorded? Am I as terrifying in the flesh as the Telmarines remember?"

No. She was unlike any woman he had ever met. And with a jolt of recognition, he saw the hurt behind her anger. He had hurt her feelings. Susan of Narnia was no witch. She was a woman.

"Well?' she demanded, nose to nose with him. "What say you, Prince of Telmar? Do you think I possess the dark magic? When you gaze upon me do you see evil in my eyes?"

"No," he said. And it was true. He had never seen eyes as full of feeling as hers.

"No," she repeated, her breath leaving her in a sigh. "No. I am not a witch. And if I am not a witch I cannot release you from a spell that I did not cast." And she turned away from him, moving back to the blankets.

Silence extended before them.

"I – I'm sorry."

"It's alright," she said softly, "I've heard it all before."

"No, I'm really, really sorr –"

"It's _alright._" And silence crept between them once again at her firm end to his apologies.

Caspian's mind raced. Oh dear. Whatever had he done? If she was not a witch and she had not ensnared him then – that would mean that all of those butterflies in his stomach and the instantaneous acknowledgement of her whereabouts were all done by _his own mind_. Why this woman? Why now when they were standing on the edge of a full fledge war with his own country. The only excuse _was _magic.

"In my defence, I _do _think you possess magic. Perhaps just not the blackest kind."

"So I am a _white witch._"

"No!" Caspian grew frustrated with his inability to explain. "Sorry – again."

"I was too hasty with my retort. I apologise."

"_You're_ apologising? I barge in here and accuse you of ensnaring me –"

"It's _alright._" She gave him a small smile over the folds of the blanket she held. "Here, take one side."

He approached her and took the blanket, standing opposite her. And together they folded.

"What are these for?"

She met his eyes briefly. "For the soldiers. In case of a chill."

"Oh." And here he had come, storming in, accusing her of unspeakable magic.

"So," she prompted after a moment.

"So –"

"You _do_ think I possess magic?"

"Of a sort."

She placed the bundle in his arms and tied the folded blankets together with a small amount of rope. Her fingers brushed his. They were warm.

"Are you going to elaborate?"

"Er –" he hesitated but she met his eyes steadily and he tried to organise his thoughts. "I do not think you possess magic in the sense of conjurers' and magicians."

"What other sorts are there?"

"You are a woman."

She looked up, surprised and a little mirthful. "Yes. Yes I am a woman."

"Women possess such a magic that men do not. This is what makes them desirable, this is what attracts us to you. The ability to personify grace and humility and yet infuse it with passion. The gift of graciousness. Being fragile yet full of unwavering nerve. Women have the ability to inspire in men such feelings as possessiveness and protectiveness. A magic or sorts to ensnare and retain admirers."

He glanced at Susan to gauge her reaction.

"You, My Lady, have been gifted with such beauty, grace and humility that it provokes an almost involuntary reaction of admiration and attraction. You have used your talents to great effect inspiring loyalty and love in your people. And I see now that you are not the Susan of Narnia as described in the old Telmarine texts, rather a Queen gifted with a beauty so great that it has become a burden upon her but a burden which she bares with great graciousness."

He found Susan was blushing faintly, her eyes averted to more blankets.

"You are very kind to say so, Caspian of Telmar."

The silence was uncomfortable this time.

"I have said too much, haven't I."

"No –"

"Yes, I'm sorry. Only, I am a little flustered and out of countenance in My Lady's presence. You see, whether good or bad stories survived, your name _did_ survive and I find it all rather mind boggling that you are sitting here before me at all."

She lifted her clear eyes to his with interest. "Am I nothing like you imagined?"

Caspian smiled, an involuntary reaction to her presence. "I believe we have established that your Majesty is not a wicked witch, nor a demon and that I am not under a spell of any sort – rather I just –" he broke off, embarrassed.

She flushed also. Susan fidgeted with her dress, her fingers playing in the material. Her eyes averted once more to somewhere behind his shoulder.

"You are more, than I could have ever imagined." He hastened to cover his abrupt silence.

"More?"

"More real." He studied her face. Her cheeks flooded red when embarrassed, her eyes were filled with more memories and emotions than he could fathom. She breathed. He could see her chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. He had learned much about Susan of Narnia in the past ten minutes. The most important being that she was only human.

"You are beautiful, yes. But human yet."

"Aye. I am but a humble daughter."

To his surprise, Susan of Narnia swept aside her skirts, swiped the dust from her brow and curtseyed to him deeply.

"You have surprised me, Caspian of Telmar. Not many men can see past my face. Fewer yet have the strength to face the truth. You have done both in the last ten minutes. It takes courage to put aside past learning to gain knowledge and wisdom."

He bowed in reply. "You honour me lady."

They studied each other carefully for a moment, returning to full height.

"I should be heading back to the war chamber."

"So it shall be," she acknowledged.

"Caspian," she called as he turned to leave. Her eyes were twinkling. "I would advise against telling my brothers that you accused me of being a witch and ensnaring you with my powers of seduction."

Caspian blushed; he felt the heat upon his neck. "Aye, My Queen. My apologies, once more –"

"Hush – just tell me one thing of yourself."

"And it shall be?"

Her eyes glittered. "You see, I seem to find my eyes following you in the camp, I know of your presence wherever I am. And so I ask with great honesty, Caspian of Telmar, are you a warlock?"

And her light giggles followed him as he sped around the corner, his face a brilliant red, but a smile growing upon his lips.

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Now I know many people hate the whole Suspian thing, but I rather do think it's cute, as long as you're writing movie verse.

I hope my little one shot wasn't too bad on the eyes. ; ) Till next time!


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